


The Trivial Life Of Percy

by Thesockpuppetmaster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Corruption, Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, mostly canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-07-05 09:30:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15860919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesockpuppetmaster/pseuds/Thesockpuppetmaster
Summary: The wizarding world does not like people like Percy Weasley.People who are different no matter how hard they try to fit in.Ever wonder why everyonr in the wizarding world was straight?A decent story for Percy, because J.K didn't give him anything.Mostly canon compliant (excluding the Cursed Child)





	1. Chapter 1

Tick  
Tock  
The small clock on the desk infront of him ticked painfully slowly, drawing out his time there for an age.  
Tick  
Tock  
It was a brand new, foldable pocket-clock ('for the wizard on the go!'), and could be set to chirp loudly at certain times. Percy always had it set to when work ended, but he could seldom go home even then.  
There was just too much to do.  
Tick  
Tock  
He put his pen down in order to survey what he had written.  
How could people care so much about cauldron bottoms?  
Percy knew that they were an important part of potion safety,and things had gone badly wrong in the past- nasty burns and such- but really. Need he write twenty four pages worth?  
Tick  
Tock  
He seriously doubted anyone would ever read it. He certainly would never look at it after it was handed in. The clock ticked ever on.  
Tick  
Tock  
"Ah, Weatherby!"  
"Mr Crouch!"  
Weasley sat up straighter in his seat as his boss walked purposefully into his cramped cubby.  
"I've got some important paperwork about that hogwarts affair that I need on my desk by tomorrow morning. The- what's that there?"  
"Cauldron bottoms report, sir.", he replied importantly.  
Not that it was important, but he might as well pretend.  
"Yes, well, that can wait. This is of the utmost importance. I'm trusting you Weatherby. Don't let me down."  
"Of course not sir!" Percy gushed, but Crouch had already left.  
Buggar. Buggar it all.  
He couldn't let Mr Crouch down- he couldn't afford to lose his job if he did- but he was so hoping to go home on time tonight.  
He had a date at nine that he wanted to get ready for. Not that he could tell anyone.  
Tick  
Tock  
The clock now read five to five.  
Four hours. Surely that could be enough time? His eyes drifted to the report on his desk.  
It was just shy of thirty pages.  
Oh, bloody hell.  
Tick  
Tock  
He'd better get started.

Nine o'clock approached more and more swiftly with each page he finished. The department got quieter and quieter, as more and more people packed up and went home to their families. This made working easier, it had to be said, but was rather demoralising.  
Percy wondered if his family missed him.  
Probably not. Mum would be to busy scolding Fred and George, Ron and Ginny would be planning how to get Harry over for the Quidditch World Cup, and Dad would be fretting over some new muggle trinket he'd found.  
The work got harder and harder, and his freckled eyelids got heavier and heavier.  
How important. Sloggy away at paperwork that was strictly classified information. Whoop-de-do.  
Eight o'clock came and went, and the red head started to panic.  
He couldn't miss it, this was only their second proper date. If you could call them dates, what with them always having to hide.  
But how would he ever finish this by tomorrow?  
Abruptly, he realised.  
The ministry never closes.   
He could come back after the date, in the small hours, and finish it.  
Granted, he would need a lot of Mrs Pepper's Perk-me-up potion, but it would give him the best of both worlds.  
At ten to nine, he finished his sentance, packed up his things, and apparated home. Clothes changed, hair brushed and teeth cleaned (you never know), he apparated again to the lesser known London pub where he was meeting Oliver- all the whilst ignoring his mothers lecturing about coming back so late.

The pub was crammed.  
The front table was full of giddy thirty-something witches on a hen night, spilling treacle champagne over the eachother's glittery night-out robes, and raucously laughing about it. The brides to be wore matching rainbow pins. The was a group of very old witches and wizards, all nursing their drinks and peering over perched spectacles. One had an asbestos white beard that swept the floor- which another promptly tripped over as she went to go to the loo, exposing a patch the creamy young skin under her robes.  
A sinister looking group of goblins played cards in the back, and near the middle a large group of very brightly dressed people laughed and talked loudly, knocking back flamboyant looking drinks. Some changed colour and others shot out sparkles as you tried to take a drink.  
"Percy!"  
Infront of him appeared Oliver Wood, dressed in a very fetching pair of deep red robes.  
Percy knew the navy ones he'd chosen were too plain.  
"Oliver! How are you?"  
"I'm great! This is a great place- how did you find it?"  
Oh dear.  
"I think I'll need a drink to tell that story!"  
"Two butterbeers, coming up!" Oliver said with a smirk, and sauntered off to the bar to get them, which gave Percy an excellent view of him behind.  
Maybe he should start playing quidditch, if it gave him an arse like that.  
He followed Wood to the bar, and over their butterbeers recounted the story of the terrible date he'd been asked to here.  
"It was arranged by a friend of mine- you know Andrews, don't you?- and it was sort of a blind date,"  
"The best kind, I'm sure."  
They sniggered into their drinks.  
"Anyway, the man asked me to come here- which was a good decision, I know- so I met him at midnight-"  
"Midnight!" Oliver choked on his drink from laughing, "you thought- let me get this straight-"  
"Was that a pun??"  
"Shh! You thought a date in a sleazy pub at midnight with some bloke you've never met was a good idea?!"  
"I know! God knows why they call me the sensible one! Anyway-"

They kept up this bantering conversation as time ticked on, and Percy forgot all about his important report.  
"Haahaa- you- hahah- cannot be seri- heeehehe- serious!"  
"I most certainly am! Haha- I told you- hehe- my date was worse!"  
"I don't know, Ollie, having an old man try to blow you under the table is pretty bad!"  
"But it will never be as much of a tragedy as having the fittest guy in the bar end up sounding like a-"  
"Long-suffering chipmunk?"  
"Yes!"  
They guffawed.  
"I say, what time is it?"  
"Oh, don't go yet!" begged Wood. "We've only had- hiccup- four rounds! And one of those was those glitter drinks so obviously they don't count!"  
Percy's robes were still covered in the stuff.  
"Only four! I'll just check, I- bloody hell, it's two a.m.!"  
"Oops"  
They giggled.  
"But I really ought to be going..."  
"Where" began Oliver, hands gesturing wildly, "could you possibly have to be at two a.m.??"

Slinking into his cubby at half past two in the morning may have been the worst feeling in the world. Still.  
He was going to finish that report tonight, even if it killed him.  
And what a tonight it had been.  
He still felt giddy when he looked at Oliver, just like he had the first time he'd seen him.  
Well. Sort of.

3rd September

Dear diary,  
I've decided I've gone off quidditch. My roommate, Oliver, won't shut up about it; this is only our third day at Hogwarts and I'm already sick to the back teeth of the little sod. I'm dreading the rest of the year having to hear about his plans to try out for the team next year, and how he's been flying since he was six and wants to be a quidditch player when he grows up. After a point, I just don't care.  
Other than that, school is ok. I don't really have many friends, but lessons are incredibly interesting and I get on with most of my teachers. There are some dicks in my classes, though. They call me poor and weasel and say things about my family that aren't true. Why do they torment me but not Charlie or Bill? We're from the same family, after all.  
At least Wood isn't as bad as that.  
I do wish we were a bit more well off sometimes. Just so they wouldn't make fun because my robes are old and too short because they were Charlie's. Or that I have an old rat instead of an owl or a cat.

Until tomorrow, diary.  
Percy.


	2. Chapter two

Ugh, his head...  
"Oi Ginny, pass the butter,"  
"Manners, Ron."  
"No, I'm serious,"  
"Come off it,"  
"I'm telling you, I saw it!"  
"Has anyone seen my briefcase?"  
"Ugh, that's disgusting Ron, shut your mouth,"  
The breakfast table, as ever, was hectic. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred George, Ron and Ginny all chattered loudly over their food, which did nothing for Percy's headache.  
He had managed to finish the report, at five in the morning, no less, but he wished he hadn't had to leave Ollie so early.  
"Percy, where were you last night?"  
They all turned to look at him.  
"Yeah, I don't think I saw you at all yesterday."  
"I was working late." And absolutely nothing else at all. Just work.  
Fred clasped his hands together.  
"Oh, saint Percy, where would we be without your cauldron bottoms?"  
Oliver had a very nice bottom.  
"Shut up."  
"Hoity toity!" quipped George.  
"There is more to life than work, dear,"  
"I know that, mother." Very well, actually.  
"Speaking of!" Said his father, jumping up, and knocking a knife off of the table in the process, "Oh, sorry. We'd better be off or we'll be late."

Percy went straight to Mr Crouch's office, through the black marble corridors, up via the golden lift- crammed full of people and memos, as ever- and through his department, to the room at the end. He rapped smartly on the door.  
"Enter!" called the voice from inside, and so he did.  
Crouch's office was purely plain and functional, without any personal touches at all, which was unusual for a ministry office.  
Even Percy had a picture of his family.  
The walls were white and the desk was brown wood, along with the chair and filing cabinet. The only colour seemed to be the man himself.  
"Mr Crouch, I'm got that report you wanted."  
Crouch looked up at him.  
"Oh! Weatherby. The one about the Hogwarts business, I take?"  
"Of course, sir."  
"Good, good. Actually- if you could take this to Bagman's office. Thank you. I've had far too much contact woth him over this whole affair."  
"Of course, sir."  
Percy had always found Ludo Bagman highly unprofessional, so sympathised with this.  
It was all well and good to be loud and joking at home, but at work- well how would you get anything done?  
And Ludo didn't.  
And he owed Wood money.  
The git.

"Mr Bagman,"  
Ludo's office was a polar opposite to Crouch's. The wall were covered in quidditch posters and photographs of a much younger version of the man before him with friends, which winked and waved at him and eachother.  
"Weasley! Come in, come in- y'know I just saw your father not half an hour ago! Small world, small world,"  
He twiddled his thumbs.  
"So what can I do for you?"  
"I'm to give you this," Percy stretched out his hand with the package, emotionlessly.  
"An early birthday present? It's not till January, but I always live in hope!"  
Don't we all.  
"It's from Mr Crouch."  
Bagman's bubbly demeanor dropped, quite suddenly, and his face sagged.  
"Oh. Oh... I see. Yes, I know what this is. Yes, indeed."  
His small, dark eyes looked at the package, deep in thought.  
"I hate to treat you like a pack horse, but could you take something to Fudge for me?"  
The minister? Of course he could! Maybe he would see how good Percy was at his job, wonder why he had never noticed him before-  
That's ridiculous. Shut up, brain.  
"Of course."  
"Excellent. Good. Yes..."  
Ludo rumaged around his cluttered desk for a while, tossing out old bits of parchment and quills, and the occasional cockroach cluster.  
"Ah ha!"  
"Shouldn't this be in an envelope?"  
"Probably, but I can't find one, so this'll have to do."  
The slightly dog eared bit of parchment was titled 'Homosexuals and Transexuals Within Sport, and Public Figure Arrest Policy Thus'  
"Not a nice business, is it?"  
Bagman had seen him reading it.  
"Still, it's for our own good, I suppose. We can't have children looking up to those types. Can we?"  
Percy felt hollow in his chest.  
Bagman thought he shouldn't be near children.   
Bagman had filed an official report for the Minister that showed how to arrest Oliver. For going on a few dates with Percy.  
Bagman thought that he ought to be in Azkaban.  
"No sir,"  
He walked out with the report, still churning this over in his mind and hating that bastard with every fibre he possessed.  
Could he give it to Fudge? If it never arrived, would it never be inforced?  
No. Of course not.  
Fudge would just ask Bagman what happened to it, and the slimy git would point him right in Percy's direction.  
He could walk through the weather department, on the off chance they were having a tsunami or forest fire, but that was nowhere near where he was going; perhaps he could 'accidentally' lose it on his way there?  
But Ludo would just send another copy and he'd be labeled as untrustworthy.  
Percy Weasley walked slowly and sombrely towards the Minister's office, hating himself more with every step.  
But there was nothing to do.

"Weasley?"  
"I've been sent to give you this from Mr Bagman, sir."  
Fudge took it from him and surveyed it in his oversized leather chair.  
"Ah! The homosexuals in sport report. Yes, this seems to be in order. I am always glad to keep these bum types away from the public, aren't you? I always sleep a little easier knowing they're safely locked away." He smiled an understanding smile, phrasing his comment as though 'bum types' were precious jewels that needed to be kept safe, and not people that needed to be thrown in Azkaban and tortured. Which is what he meant.  
"Of course sir."  
Percy had never wanted to punch the minister before.  
As he left, he was still thinking; this man was running the entire magical community in Britain. He had looked up to him, trusted him, respected him, and it felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

"How was work, Percy?" Molly asked him over dinner that night.  
George whispered something to Fred, who sniggered.  
Percy chose to ignore this.  
"Excellent, Mother."  
Fucking liar.  
"I got some excellent headway on my cauldron bottoms report, and I delivered some paperwork to the Minister." That details how to arrest scum like me.  
"Oooh, to the Minister? The Minister for magic, you say?"  
"He who runs our country oh-hear-his-name-and-wee-yourself-with-excitement-if-your-name's-Percy?"  
"Are you really that important, Percy?"  
"Can you get-"  
"Fred! George! That's enough!"  
Mrs Weasley's eyes blazed thunder, and the twins quickly shut up.  
"I think that sounds lovely Percy."  
I don't.

About a week later, during breakfast, a smart screech owl came soaring through the open window, and dropped a letter on the table, adressed to Percy.  
"Who's it from?" asked Hermione.  
Percy was abou to reply that he didn't know, before Fred cut in-  
"Is it the Minister, Percy? Has your errand finally got the recognition it deserves?"  
Percy scowled and snatched the letter off of the table. They had been tormenting him about it all week, and he was sick of it.  
He opened the letter and broke into a smile.  
Oliver.

Dear Percy,

Knowing your family I think it's fairly safe to guess you're going to the world cup this weekend.  
Are tents good places for third dates?  
Meet me in mine at two a.m. on Saturday night. Or Sunday morning, I mean.  
I'll find you in the day and show you where to go.

Yours, O. x

"Blimey, someone's cheered up. Maybe it really is from Fudge."

22nd November  
Dear diary,

Maybe Wood isn't so bad after all. He stood up for me with some of the arseholes who were calling me names today. He didn't have to, but he did.  
I'm starting to like quidditch again.

Until tomorrow, diary,  
Percy.


	3. Chapter three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haven't updated in a while.
> 
> Have fun.

Finally, they were there.  
The Qudditch World Cup was the most exciting event of a quidditch fan's year, and the atmosphere buzzed accordingly.  
After the tents were set up, and Mr Crouch and bloody Bagman had stopped by for tea, Percy excused himself- saying something indistinct about safety that they wouldn't care enough to ask about- and set off to find Oliver's tent.  
His eyes scoured through the sea of canvas and tarpaulin, searching for some kind of a sign of Wood, perhaps a plaque with his name or giant flashing lights reading 'OLIVER WOOD'S TENT IS HERE, PERCY'.  
No such luck. He had no idea where to even begin, so he just started walking.  
Some wizards, he had come to find, never quite grasped the idea of secrecy, and there were tents blazing magic as far as the eye could see. Some changed colour when people walked past, others blared the irish national anthem at certain times of day. Small children whizzed about on toy broomsticks, occasionally ramming into their tents or passers by, which was inevitably followed by tears.  
"Percy!"  
Deja vu.  
Oliver was sat in the mouth of a tent not ten metres infront of him, boiling a kettle on a gas camping stove.  
"Oliver!" Percy said as he strolled towards him. "Figured out the stove? Took Dad ages but he insisted on matches."  
Wood pulled a mock-guilty face.  
"I'm afraid I had to cheat, actually. Sit down! Tea?"  
"Yes please. I must say-" he looked around furtively "It feels weird to be together in public again."  
Oliver nodded.  
"I hadn't realised how used I'd gotten to hiding. But I like this, even if we're, uh, just friends." He winked.  
"So do I, even with you trying to get us arrested,"  
The brunette calmly sipped from his mug.  
"Lot of anal in azkaban."  
Percy choked on his tea.

The match came and went in a flurry of cheering and leprechauns, and all the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione sang and chanted their way back to the tent with the crowd-  
"We won the cup! We won the cup!..."  
Percy was giddy with excitement. It had been a great match- he'd particularly enjoyed the veela desplay; watching all the other men fawn over them, and pretending he wasn't watching- and he couldn't wait to meet Oliver later.  
He got into his paisley pajamas, brushed his teeth and climbed into bed like the rest of them, but he didn't sleep.  
Instead, he was waiting.  
He went over the plan again in his mind; at ten to two he'd get up and go to the bit of woods that he and Oliver had arranged to meet at earlier. If anyone asked where he was going, he'd say to the toilet.  
He couldn't wait.  
Percy wasn't ashamed to admit to himself that he had feelings for Wood, infact he was glad of it.  
He was just afraid of what might happen if others knew.  
Half past one came, then quater to two, then, finally, it was time.  
The redhead crept as quietly as he knew how out of the tent, crawling out of bed and tiptoeing out of the door.  
He didn't think anyone saw.

The woods were a horrific alternate wonderland at this hour, each branch shaped like a gnarled arm, swinging out to grab him, and each crunch underfoot mimicking the snarl of a werewolf.  
An owl hooted, and he almost jumped out of his skin.  
Where the hell was Oliver?  
There was a crunching behind him, and Percy whipped around, fearing the worst...  
"Oliver!"  
"Bloody spooky, isn't it? I didn't think it would be this bad..."  
"Nor did I."  
"Maybe we should do something to take our minds off it?"  
He had a devilish grin, which seemed to be infectious.  
"That seems like an excellent plan to me."  
He leaned it and met Oliver's lips, gently putting a hand on his waist as he did. Wood ran his fingers through the vivid hair at the back of his head, and the kiss deepened.  
The pair moved slowly towards the nearest tree, until Percy was backed against it, still lip locked with Oliver.  
Screams.  
They broke apart at the noise, startled.  
"What the hell was that?"  
The screaming and yelling only got louder, as if more and more people were joining it.  
"Sounds like a bloody riot,"  
They looked at eachother.  
"We can't be found like this. It'll look too suspicious. I'll go see if my family is ok, and what's going on, and you get out of the woods later from a different point." Percy planned, looking worried.  
"Ok. I'll see you... soon."  
"Soon."  
The men split up to follow the plan, and the Weasley spotted his family not far from him.  
He rushed towards them.  
Tents were ablaze and people ran about screaming and yelling for their families. The same young children that had laughed so gaily on toy broomsticks earlier were now being dragged away in pajamas with tear stained faces, leaving all their belongings behind.  
"Dad, what's going on?"  
"Someone's fired the dark mark, and death eaters have been seen torturing muggles and setting fires, where the bloody hell have you been?!"  
"I went for a wee." he lied quickly. "What can we do?"  
"You can go and help the ministry workers while this lot get to safety."  
Percy ran where his father had indicated.  
If he thought it had been carnage before, he didn't even know how to describe this.  
He dashed to get people safely out of the way and fire curses at the death eaters, all the while just praying that his family and Oliver were all ok.  
A jet of light came spinning out of nowhere and hit him straight in the nose, making breathing difficult and swallowing thick with blood.  
"Comb dis way! Comb dis way, dease!"  
He ferried gradually more panicked looking people in the throng to out of the way places, like the woods, but hurried off to help fight the death eaters when he saw the masked figures approaching.  
"Stubefy! Stubefy! Stu- Minisber?"  
Cornelious Fudge was hurrying away from the scene, holding his vibrant bowler hat low over his eyes in some kind of an attempt to hide.  
He ignored Percy, and Percy hated himself even more for grovelling to the cowardly sod. At this point, though, it was almost a reflex, and Merlin's beard did he want a promotion.  
Not only would a promotion mean a higher position and more respect, -which he never seemed to get, as much as he gave out- it would also mean better steady income, so he could aford to live independently, and get nice Christmas presents for his mother.  
God knows she deserved them.  
Whoosh  
A bolt of light came soaring at his head, and he moved just in time.  
He couldn't afford to think about other things right now.

It was very quiet when they got back to the tent, just Percy, Charlie and Bill, all sporting injuries and wondering where the others were.  
Thinking the worst.  
Percy felt terrible.  
What an arse he'd been to all of them.  
What an utter fucking arsehole.  
He should have spent more time with his father, and told him how much he meant to him.  
He should have laughed with Fred and George instead of just getting annoyed at their japes.  
He shouldn't have patronised all of them, or acted like his work was more important, or-  
"Hello?"  
Oh, thank God.  
They were back.

8th January   
Dear Diary,

I think I must be going mad. When I came back to hogwarts after Christmas, I kind of felt... well, I don't know. Nothing's really changed, but, well, perhaps I have. I've been seeing Oliver in a new light- I rather can't believe I ever used to hate him- well. I still do sometimes, so that was a lie, really. Sometimes he's awful and sometimes he's... not.  
I suppose I ought to talk about it with my new friend, because I've been told that's the sort of thing friends talk about. She's called Penny, and she's in Ravenclaw, which is annoying because we can't go into eachother's common rooms. Professor Mcgonagall put me into a pair with her in transfiguration, and she said she didn't have many friends either, so we should be eachother's, and now we study and wander round the grounds together- though that'll be better in summer.  
Yes, I think I will talk to her about the Oliver thing.

Until tomorrow, diary,  
Percy.


	4. Chapter four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while, but here's chapter four!

As it had before, a smart screech owl dropped a letter for Percy on the breakfast table, but this time he quickly seized it, and stuffed it in his pocket for later.  
No one seemed to notice.  
They were all talking between themselves about what had happened the night before last, not bothering to include him in the conversation despite him working at the ministry, and so knowing more than them.  
Speaking of the ministry, yesterday had to be the busiest he'd ever seen the place, which made him feel rather important- there must have been a thousand people on each floor, all rushing to and fro, memos flying everywhere and hitting into people as they tried to cram into the already over-capacity lifts.  
It was quite a contrast to his two thirty a.m. report finishing.  
That seemed like a world away now.

As they had just finished breakfast, Charlie grabbed his arm, and asked if thet could have  
"A word,"  
before he went back to Romania.  
Percy begrudgingly agreed, but insisted that it had to be quick; he had important work to do.  
They headed out to the garden.  
"Perce, I've- I've got to say I'm a bit worried about you."  
"Worried? About me? Why?"  
"Well..." the older brother scratched his head, "I heard a few days ago from a friend at the ministry that they saw you walking in at two o'clock in the morning." Charlie stated incredulously. "What were you doing?"  
"I was working." he replied, truthfully.  
"At two in the morning? And why were you only just arriving?"  
"I don't see how that's any of your business."  
"Percy. Look, I don't want to be a dick and ask too much or whatever, but I'm worried about you."  
A beat of silence.  
"I had made plans for earlier that evening that I didn't want to miss, but I had an important report to finish that Mr Crouch had given to me that day, so I had to go back, not that it's any of your business." Percy answered stiffly.  
"Perce, I saw you leave the tent at the world cup at about that time too- not long before the mark appeared- you're not doing anything stupid or danger-"  
"No, Charlie, I am not a death eater, if that's what you're asking!" Percy snapped. "If you must know, I had a date the night I had to work late, and I was meeting the same person at the world cup, at two a.m. so we wouldn't be disturbed by you lot!"  
He was quite agitated by the end of his speech, but he wished that he wasn't. Charlie was only trying to help.  
"Sorry. I know you were only trying to help."  
"S'ok Perce. I'd probably be pissed too if someone accused me of being a death eater."  
They smiled shyly at eachother.  
"Please don't tell the others about the date. You know how they get. Especially the twins."  
"And mum,"  
"God forbid,"  
"Don't worry, I won't tell. Now you'd better get to work. The wizarding world won't save itself!"  
But though he sounded cheerful on the outside, Charlie couldn't help but worry that there was more to it than his younger brother insisted.

Percy whirled through work that day in a haze of memos, brisk instructions and paperwork. He got to sit in on very important meetings, file very important reports, and generally feel very important for the whole day.  
When five o'clock rolled around, he realised that there had been so many people there, everything he would usually have to do overtime- thanks to those bloody slackers in the department of communications- had been done.  
He was free!  
Just as he was packing up to go home, a letter landed on Percy's desk.  
Not another bloody complaint.  
He opened it, and saw it was from his friend Penny, asking him to come over for drinks tonight.  
The redhead didn't even consider it before scrawling a reply that he would love to, and whizzing home to freshen up.

Penny lived on the second floor of an old Victorian terrace in the west end of London. The street was highly uneventful, crammed with the same terracotta red-bricked boxes up and down, save for a small, slightly run down looking shop run by a lovely old lady named Mavis.  
It was this shop that Percy stopped in to pick up a bottle of wine- the muggle kind, red and deep and sweet, which tasted much better than some of the stuff mum and dad kept at home- for Penny and him to drink.  
"Hiya Percy! You alright?" Mavis called as she saw him enter through the cramped maze of shelves, her arms full of tubes of pringles  
"Hi Mavis, I'm well thank you. And you?"  
She gave a dramatic sigh and shook her head in a long suffering manner.  
"No! No no no... I tell you, Percy, never have grandchildren. Bundles of joy my..."  
She faded off into tutting.  
Percy made his way to the shelf adorned with bottles at the back of the shop.  
"Did Sue leave them with you over the weekend again?"  
"'Course she bloody well did. Fannying off to Ibiza with her new boyfriend this time- did I tell you about 'im?"  
"The one with the face tattoo?" he asked as he perused the (admittedly small) wine selection.  
"No, he dumped her, she's got a new one now- bags of cash, apparently. Anyway, how's things, dear?"  
It was Percy's turn to sigh.  
"Oh, god. Mixed, shall we say. Work's a bit hellish at the moment, and I'm still no closer to buying my own flat,"  
He plumped for a reasonably-priced red and made his way to the till.  
"You be careful, now, Percy," Mavis wagged her finger dangerously at him, her already lined forehead crinkling into a frown, "one of Sue's old school friends worked so 'ard he had a heart attack! At twenty two!"  
"I'll be careful, Mavis, don't worry."

Rat-a-tat-tat!  
Percy rapped smartly on Penny's door, bottle of wine in other hand, and waited, tapping his toes in his shoe unrhythmically as he did.  
The door opened, revealing Penny on the other side, blonde hair pulled into a careless bun, and muggle clothes on.  
"Perce! How are you?"  
She ushered him in with a wave of her hand, and he stepped into her living room. It was reasonably bare, with just a few minimalist shelves, carefully adorned with photos and books, a coffee table, two plain armchairs and a matching sofa, which Penelope guided him to.  
"I brought wine!"  
"Oh dear, so did I! We'll be sloshed by the end of the evening!"  
"As if that's a bad thing,"  
Penelope sprang up, as though struck by a sudden idea.  
"I'll get glasses!"  
She sauntered into the small kitchen just off the living room, and, out of the corner of his eye, Percy noticed a suspiciously male looking pair of orange boxers, slung- with apparent reckless abandon- over a vase full of orange tulips on one of Penny's shelves.  
"Got them!"  
She set two wine glasses down on the coffee table, and filled them both with a generous amount of wine.  
"Penny," began Percy, still fixated and thoroughly amused by the pants.  
"Yes?"  
"What are those?" His index finger indicated the vase, and Penelope's face flushed in such a hue, it could easily have been mistaken for bad sunburn.  
But they were not in the sun.  
"Um, I had a, er, friend over."  
"Penny you're a rotten liar!"  
"It's true! Or at least it was when he arrived."  
"This is sounding like the start of a bad porno,"  
"Shut up! I just had some fun with a friend, that's all."  
"Fun with a friend!" He cackled, "Going bowling is fun with a friend, dancing is fun with a friend, getting drunk on wine with your fake girlfriend is fun with a friend, but fucking in your living room is not what I would call 'fun with a friend'!"  
"Oh, but when I caught you sneaking out of the hufflepuff common room, wearing someone else's trousers, that was fun with a friend, according to you!"  
Percy's ears went red.  
"Alright, alright, you've got me there. So anyway, who was he?"  
"He's my landlord."  
Percy thought for a minute.  
"Tall, black hair, east asian?"  
"That's him."  
"Does he know... does he know you're a witch?"  
Penny took a long drink of her wine.  
"Not exactly."

Percy spent that night crying.  
He fell into bed and sobbed into his pillow; the thing was wet through come morning light.  
The letter he had received that morning had sat neatly in his pocket all day, forgotten about until he took his trousers off to get into his pyjamas. He hadn't gotten home from Penny's until one, and had been feeling blissfully trouble free after a drunken evening.  
But then he read that letter.  
Oliver was going to be put in Azkaban.  
And it was all his fault.

16th February

Dear diary,  
I feel terrible. I was partnered with Oliver in potions, and like an idiot I added the powdered dungbeetle too early, which made the whole thing combust! Professor Snape was furious- as he might be- but just before I was about to confess, Oliver said it was his fault! And now he's got a detention, thanks to me.  
Penny says I shouldn't feel bad- he volunteered, after all- but I still do.

Until tomorrow, diary,  
Percy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you are enjoying this, if so, or if not, feel free to comment about it!
> 
> Also, I know Wood was Scottish in the films, but in my mind (and writing) he will always be as narrated by Stephen Fry on the audio books.


End file.
